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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827071">action at a distance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melyurism/pseuds/melyurism'>melyurism</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Space, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Co-workers, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, NASA, Strangers to Lovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:07:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melyurism/pseuds/melyurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(the concept that an object can be moved, changed, or otherwise affected without being physically touched by another object.)</p><p>there are two hundred and fifty-three miles between dream on earth and techno in space. they make it work anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>418</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi!! so this has been in the drafts for a while lmao. wasnt actually planning on posting it bc ive never posted anything on ao3 but why not start now, i guess? fic is already complete, so i'll be updating daily until all of it is up. that's pretty much it, hope u enjoy reading! (beware for copious amounts of inaccuracies about nasa)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Contrary to popular belief, Dream does not, in fact, want to work the night shift. Who did? Waking up when most people are eating dinner, having breakfast when most people are crawling into bed—your world is suddenly and jarringly flipped onto its head.</p><p>(Try telling Bad that, though. NASA veteran, ISS flight director, and Dream’s pseudo-dad—Bad burst into Mission Control Backroom #67, dropped a shiny, new lanyard into Dream’s lap, and grinned.</p><p>“Welcome aboard, flight controller. Glad to have you on the team.”</p><p>Dream stared at the glossy I.D. in shock. <i>His</i> glossy I.D. There it was, his name and serial number printed in black ink, plus a less-than-flattering photo of himself below NASA’s logo.</p><p>It was happening. </p><p>Holy shit, it was finally happening. Dream’s name had been on the list for prospective flight controllers for years now, and his training just finished up a handful of weeks ago. It was official. Dream was a flight controller for the International Space Station.</p><p>He tilted his head up slowly to look at Bad, speechless. Bad’s smile widened, and said, “There’s more.”</p><p>What.</p><p>“The guys over at the training center really liked you and thought you would be a perfect fit for a certain role, so they put in a recommendation for you! Congratulations Dream.” Bad was practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re our CAPCOM.”</p><p>Dream blinked once. Twice.</p><p>
  <i>What.</i>
</p><p>“Wh—”</p><p>Bad raised a hand, effectively cutting him off, “I know what you’re gonna say, and yes, CAPCOMs are almost exclusively former astronauts, and yes, all our previous CAPCOMs were at least twice your age when they first started, but—what can I say? They liked you a lot over there. They specifically mentioned to me that you were very level-headed and worked well under pressure. Very good at communication. Literally the exact things we look for in CAPCOMs.”</p><p>Dream still had so many questions.</p><p>“I still have so many questions.”</p><p>“And I’ll answer them.” Bad smiled. “But for now, you’re gonna clear up your stuff here and put that lanyard on. Your shift’s almost over, head to the cafeteria with me.”</p><p>As Dream started to get up, Bad mentioned one last thing to him. One teeny, tiny detail. Inconsequential, really.</p><p>“Oh—wait, hold on, before I forget to mention and you get really mad at me—you’re on night shift. Nine in the evening to six in the morning. So.”)</p><p>So. Now Dream is here, driving to the Johnson Space Center at eight p.m. He already cleaned out his previous work area the day before and had been briefed on the specifics of the job by Bad, so all there’s left to do now is clock in. Start his first shift as mission control’s youngest CAPCOM. </p><p>His mom always did say he had a knack for talking. Placation, negotiation, persuasion—Dream was very good at running his mouth. Now, at least, he could finally put that skill to good use.</p><p>For nine hours, every day, every week, every month for the next six months, Dream would be communicating with the ISS orbiting the earth. He’d be mission control’s mouthpiece—flight controllers would throw boulder-sized amounts of jargon at him and he’d compress the information into bite-sized chunks to relay to the guys up in space. In return, they’d shoot back equally-as-unintelligible mountains of words at him, and he’d shave it down to its bare bones and shout it over to the people bustling around the control room. </p><p>Essentially, Dream is never going to shut up.</p><p>As he pulls up by the curb, in the staff-only parking space, he starts to feel the beginnings of a panic attack churn right below his ribs. How the hell is he gonna pull this off? CAPCOMs are always former astronauts for a reason. He’s never even set foot in a spacecraft. What if the guys in the station need life-saving information, information that Dream can’t give them? What if no one else is around to help? What if three people die and it’s all his fault? He’s gonna have blood on his hands, all because he isn’t qualified enough to—</p><p>A knock on the car window.</p><p>Sapnap peers into the vehicle, concerned.</p><p>“Hey man, you alright? You’ve been in there awhile.” </p><p>Dream catches himself in the rear-view mirror. Bags under his bloodshot eyes, sweaty and pale. He looks like shit.</p><p>Dream turns to look at Sapnap. <i>No,</i> he wants to say, <i>no, I’m not alright. I feel like I’m gonna hurl.</i></p><p>He forces a smile.</p><p>“I’m all good!” He gives him a thumbs up. You know, to reinforce the fact that he’s all good.</p><p> </p><p>Dream is not, if truth be told, all good. He’s now sitting in the ISS’ mission control center, freezing his fucking ass off, trying to adjust his headset so the metal band doesn’t dig into his cranium. He could be better. But then again, every couple minutes or so, he’ll look up and see the floor-to-ceiling displays projected onto the front of the room—bright blue light in the shape of numbers and graphs and maps—and he’ll smile something small and secretive to himself. He’s been dreaming about this room since he was a kid. That childlike wonder is still thrumming in his veins, living in his chest, decades later.</p><p>Night shift or not, he’s still pretty fucking excited.</p><p>Suddenly, static fills his ears.</p><p>“ISS to Houston, ISS to Houston. The macaroni is shit, over.”</p><p>And, first of all, what.</p><p>Second of all, the voice on the other end of the line is <i>deep.</i> Fucking hell.</p><p>Third—yeah, rehydrated macaroni is shit. </p><p>Adjusting the wire wrapped around his neck, Dream speaks, “Houston to ISS, I’m sure reheated, rehydrated mac n’ cheese does not taste all that pleasant, over.” </p><p>A laugh on the other end of the line, warm and pleasant and weighty. </p><p>Dream speaks again, “This is Houston, isn’t it supposed to be four a.m. up there, sir? Pretty sure all astronauts are scheduled to be asleep by now, over.”</p><p>“ISS to Houston, I’m sure I can be forgiven. First time in space and all. It’s the nerves, over,” the voice answers back.</p><p>“Houston here, first time in space?” Dream questions, looking at the monitor to his right. Aboard the space station right now are Flight Engineer Phil Craft and Science Officer Wilbur Soot, both on the second month of their six month shift, meaning—</p><p>“So I’m currently speaking to Commander Techno Blade? Over.”</p><p>The headset crackles. “This is the ISS, you’d be correct. Second day on the job. Can I get your name in return? Would be nice knowing who I’m gonna be having in my ears for the next couple of months, over.”</p><p>Dream leaned back in his chair and looked up at the high ceiling of the control room. “Houston here, this is Dream. Nice to meet you, Commander. Over.”</p><p>“ISS, back at you, Dream. Call me Techno. Should be around ten at night down there, so you must be the unlucky bastard that got stuck with the night shift. Sorry to hear it. Over.”</p><p>He feels a smile tugging at his lips.</p><p>“Houston to ISS, this is your CAPCOM speaking. I think—” Dream tilts his head down to stare at the blinking red dot on the wall in front of him, tracking the ISS’ orbit around the globe. “I think it’s— it’s not actually gonna be all that bad, Commander. Over.”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and that was the first chapter! hope u enjoyed. i highly recommend looking up some of the terms that will be mentioned in this fic because nasa is v interesting to read about! space is v cool! half of the stuff i'll be saying in this fic is inaccurate, modified to fit the story, so take whatever i put in here with a grain of salt. but yeah! that was it, comments are super appreciated—pls tell me if the pacing is okay so far, kinda freaking out about that lmao. thanks for reading, have a great day! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>decided to post a little earlier! i think im going to be sticking to this time from now on, so yeah! updating daily until this bad boy is finished. hope u enjoy reading! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream watches as George practically chugs down an entire mug of scalding black coffee two desks beside him. </p><p>Jesus Christ.</p><p>He’s only been in mission control for a little over three weeks, and even he has grown accustomed to the night shift’s taxing schedule. No crippling caffeine addiction for him! Yeah, he barely gets five hours of sleep on a good day, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Not when this promotion is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.</p><p>He’s tracking the ISS’ trajectory for the week, 3D diagrams pulled up on his monitors, when the door to the room beeps and bursts open. Sapnap stands at the front of the room, grinning, a Chipotle bag clutched triumphantly in one hand. </p><p>Dream, George, Bad, and Sam only stare confusedly at Sapnap, still posing proudly, startled by his outburst.</p><p>“What—” Sam starts, only to get a foil-wrapped burrito in the face. </p><p>“You get a burrito!” Sapnap yells. “And you get a burrito! And you get a burrito! And you get a burrito bowl ‘cause you don’t like tortillas,” he ends off, holding out a paper container to Bad.</p><p>“Aw, thanks Sapnap,” Bad says, taking Sapnap’s overall <i>Sapnap-ness</i> in stride as he accepts the box from him.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks Sap. Could’ve done without the violent burrito projectile in the face though.” Dream kicks at Sapnap’s shins as he walks past Dream’s desk.</p><p>“But where’s the fun in that?” Sapnap beams at him.</p><p>Dream rolls his eyes, unwrapping the foil.</p><p>He’s scarfing down his Oprah burrito as his headset crackles.</p><p>“ISS to Houston, how’s the weather down there? Over.”</p><p>Dream feels the beginnings of a smile work its way up his face. He hides behind his burrito even though he knows, logically, Techno can’t see him.</p><p>“Houston to ISS, weather’s fine. Hasn’t rained in a while though, hot as balls—even at night, over.”</p><p>He continues to chow down his burrito as Techno speaks, “ISS to Houston. There you go again with that ‘commander’ bullshit. How many times have I told you to call me Techno, Dream? Over.”</p><p>Dream’s smile grows larger. “Houston—doesn’t matter how many times you say it, Commander, it’s protocol, over.” </p><p>“ISS to Houston, protocol my ass. Over.”</p><p>Dream’s sure Techno can hear the smile in his voice, because Dream can hear his.</p><p>He sees George turn to him from the corner of his eye so he shifts to look at him. George smirks at him. ‘Techno?’ he mouths, waggling his eyebrows.</p><p>Dream flips him off, turning back to his desk.</p><p>As Dream returns to his conversation with Techno, fiddling with the wrapper of his half-eaten burrito, George throws a crumpled-up paper ball at Sapnap, who’s scribbling down notes in the station behind them. </p><p>Sapnap shoots George a glare.</p><p>‘Read it,’ George mouths.</p><p>Sapnap frowns at him but smooths out the paper ball nonetheless, pen held in between his lips.</p><p><i>‘u owe me $50 - look at dream rn’</i> is scrawled messily in big, bold letters.</p><p>Sapnap looks up at George, whose eyes are sparkling with something smug and amused. Removing the ballpoint from his mouth, he stands up from his desk and walks over to where George is sitting. He takes one look at George—looking like the cat that just got the canary—and knows that he’s screwed.</p><p>He tilts his gaze upwards to where Dream’s sitting and— </p><p>Dream is blushing. Dream is blushing and twiddling with a Bic pen, now-cold burrito forgotten on the desk.</p><p>Sapnap blinks once. Twice. Blush high and warm on his cheekbones, Dream is openly grinning now, laughing at whatever is coming through his headset. </p><p>Sapnap’s eye twitches. Of fucking course. </p><p>He throws the most irritated scowl he can muster at George, the asshole, and stomps back to his desk, digging through his bag to retrieve his wallet. </p><p>He crumples the crisp fifty dollar bill and lobs it at George. George catches it and flattens the banknote with his palm. He holds the bill out in front of Sapnap smugly, eyes shining with something very proud and very ‘I told you so.’</p><p>Sapnap glowers at the proud face of Ulysses Grant. He almost swears the ex-president is mocking him.</p><p>He turns back to his cluttered desk and picks up his ballpoint pen. About to pick back up from where he left off, he stops at the sound of Dream’s wheezy laughter. Sapnap spares a glance at the man in front of him—shoulders shaking, still twirling the pen in his fingers. Is Dream fucking giggling?</p><p>The corner of his mouth tugs up completely against his will. Okay. Maybe losing his and George’s bet might not be the worst thing in the world, he reasons out to himself.</p><p>In front and to the right of him, George smiles too. </p><p>George stashes the money in his backpack and pulls out his yellow legal pad. He flips to the back page and crosses out the latest item on his list.</p><p>
  <i>‘win bet - prove 2 sap that dream wants 2 bang the astronaut (ez 50 bucks)’</i>
</p><p>In the background, Dream’s laughter fills the control room.</p><p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and thats a wrap on chapter two! how are we feeling? im not even gonna lie, my favorite parts of this story are the team's interactions lmao (sorry dream and techno). let me know what u guys think! i appreciate every single comment!! &lt;3</p><p>side note: d&amp;t always start off their sentences with "ISS" (techno) and "Houston" (dream) because those are their callsigns! i know it makes the dialogue like, pretty awkward and clunky, but i kinda wanted to go at least semi-accurate for this bit. forgive me D:</p><p>side side note: Genuinely Appalled at my sheer overuse of the word 'burrito' in this</p><p>thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>before starting this chapter, i recommend looking up a picture of the ISS Cupola! the view from earth is so gorgeous up there and it gives context to a part of this chapter :D</p><p>(also, thank you so much for 100 kudos!! holy shit i never thought this mess of a fic would get this much support, but i really really appreciate it. this is so wild, omg. thank you so much &lt;33)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sorry, sorry—sorry Bad, fuck, I know I’m late but I got caught in post-dinner traffic and I could’ve left the house earlier but my alarm didn’t go off and—shit, I’m really sorry,” Dream babbles as he taps his I.D. on the scanner to enter the (cold as balls) room, balancing a stack of folders in one hand and a to-go cup of tea in the other.</p><p>Bad glances up from the mound of paperwork colonizing his desk and blinks. “Language. And it’s only been around twenty minutes, Dream, it’s alright.” He gives Dream a gentle smile, looking back down at the pile of documents threatening to spill out from the edges of his station. </p><p>“Sorry anyway, Bad,” Dream mutters, nudging Bad’s shoulder with his hip as he walks past his workspace, leaving him to his contract-signing, or whatever it is that he’s doing. He sets down his tea on his desk and shoves the ungodly amount of files in a side drawer, throwing his backpack into the corner of the cramped space under his table. As he boots up his computer, he hears George’s swivel chair creak. He looks to his right and sees George grinning at him almost maniacally.  Sapnap gets up from behind him and walks over to his other side.</p><p>Dear God.</p><p>“What?” Dream groans, wondering what crimes he's committed in his past life to deserve this. He alternates between looking at Sapnap and looking at George, identical smug looks on their faces.</p><p>Sapnap’s smiling so hard it looks like his face is gonna split in half. “Don’t have anything to tell us, Dreamy-poo?”</p><p>Dream grimaces at the nickname. “No, I don’t, Sap. What the hell are you two on about now?”</p><p>George cackles to his right. “You sure, Dream? Nothing interesting going on with you or your—” he pauses to hide a snort. “You or your love life?”</p><p>Dream stops. Takes a minute.</p><p>“What.” He stares at George, and then at Sapnap (who is also giggling, the fucker).</p><p>“What.” he repeats, because, what. “What do you mean my love life, what— what would be going on with my love life? What?”</p><p>George leans closer to him, propping up his chin in the palm of his hand. “So there’s nothing going on with <i>Commander</i>?” </p><p>“Nothing at all going on with <i>Commander Techno</i>?” Sapnap leers at him, fluttering his eyelashes.</p><p>Dream gapes at them.</p><p>“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘IS THERE ANYTHING GOING ON WITH COMMANDER TECHNO?’” Dream bursts out, looking scandalized. </p><p>Bad turns around from his paperwork-monster and glances at them, concerned.</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘is there anything going on with Commander Techno,’” Dream says again, furiously whisper-shouting. “Why would there be anything going on? What— what is wrong with the two of you?”</p><p>Sapnap wheels his rolly-chair over to plop down next to Dream. “You have to be kidding. He has to be kidding, right George?”</p><p>George shoots Sapnap an incredulous look. “He has to be kidding.”</p><p>“Why would I be kidding? What’s going on with you two, what—”</p><p>“Dream,” Sapnap interrupts. “You haven’t noticed that you’re, like, fucking in love with the guy? Dude.”</p><p>Dream stares at him.</p><p>“C’mon, Dream,” George looks at him almost exasperatedly. “It’s been like, three months now. You talk to him literally everyday, nine hours a day.”</p><p>Dream opens his mouth to protest but Sapnap beats him to it, “Dude, you fucking giggle, like everytime you guys talk. Giggle! You giggle!”</p><p>Affronted, Dream tries to defend himself yet again, but before he can get to it, George calls out, “Sam!”</p><p>Sam doesn’t hear, bobbing his head to the music playing from his headphones.</p><p>George tries again, “Sam! Hey, Sam!”</p><p>Sam keeps bobbing his head, now mouthing the lyrics as well, typing furiously on his keyboard. The man is completely and utterly oblivious to the outside world.</p><p>George, now fed up, throws a rubber band ball at his head. Sam looks up, rubbing his skull, mildly irritated. Sapnap gestures for him to remove his headphones.</p><p>Blinking, Sam hangs the headset around his neck and looks at them, confused. “Huh?”</p><p>George says, “What have you noticed about Dream this past month, Sam? Anything new?”</p><p>“Oh.” Sam doesn’t even stop to think. ”Uh— he’s in love with Commander Blade, if that counts as new. Like, very much schoolgirl-crushing right now.”</p><p>“Sam!” Dream looks at him in horror.</p><p>Sam shrugs at him, placing his headphones back on and returning to his work.</p><p>Sapnap and George grin at him. </p><p>“That— that doesn’t mean anything. You’re all idiots, actually, that’s what that means. Go away,” Dream grumbles, fixing the headset wire wrapped around his neck. This is stupid. They’re all stupid.</p><p>Then,</p><p>“ISS here. Entertain me, Dream, I’m bored. Floating mid-air can only do so much, over,” Techno groans, two hundred and fifty-three miles away from him.</p><p>Dream’s attention suddenly switches direction.</p><p>“Houston. Hm. Not sure what I can do about that, Commander, can’t say I’m more entertaining than— you know. Space. Over.”</p><p>Techno’s voice comes in clear and low through the headset, “ISS. No. No, you are. Trust me on this one, over.”</p><p>Something tugs at Dream’s heart. “Houston. I’ll have to take your word for it. Over.”</p><p>And then,</p><p>“Houston again. Hey, if you’re so bored, why don’t you go up to the Cupola for me. Tell me what you see when you come back. If— if you want to, that is. Over.”</p><p>There’s something simmering in the air. Dream doesn’t know what.</p><p>“ISS.” Techno clears his throat. “Yeah.” A beat. “Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll come back in a bit. Over.”</p><p>The line goes silent.</p><p>His heart is pounding in his ears. It feels like he’s dangling his feet off the edge of a cliff. He doesn’t realize he’s clenching a pen in between his fingers until Sapnap squeezes his white-knuckled fist.</p><p>Sapnap raises his eyebrows at him. “What did you say, again? About nothing going on?”</p><p>Dream just stares at him. </p><p>“Aw,” George coos. “Our boy’s in love.”</p><p>Sapnap sends George a look over Dream’s head, squeezing Dream’s shoulder. “We’ll leave you alone. For now, at least.” He rolls his chair back to his station.</p><p>Dream doesn’t say anything. He catches himself looking at the blinking red light projected onto the front of the room. That’s tracking where Techno is, right now, right this second, Dream thinks to himself.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>So he might be feeling— <i>something</i> for Techno. Cool. That’s cool. It’s been a while, but that’s cool. He isn’t panicking, not in the slightest. Why would he be? It isn’t like he’s gonna act on whatever it is he’s feeling. Nothing to worry about.</p><p>No way in hell Dream is gonna freak out over a fucking crush. Barely a crush. A smidge of attraction for a person he’s never even seen. This is all going to blow over, and he’s gonna act all smug after he’s done with it. He’ll preen and puff out his chest whenever Sapnap and George and Sam walk by, because <i>hah</i>, you were all wrong, he wasn’t in love with the guy. It was just. A tiny affection he used to hold for him. </p><p>He’s still staring at the blinking red dot. </p><p>Dream swallows. There’s a lump in his throat and his insides are twisting into knots and it’s like there’s silk wrapping tight and snug around his ribcage and—</p><p>“Dream!” Sam calls out to him. “Someone sent something in for you.”</p><p>And that’s odd enough to knock him out of his stupor.</p><p>He removes his unwieldy headset and walks over to Sam’s desk, confused.</p><p>There’s a picture of Earth pulled up on Sam’s monitor.</p><p>It’s the view from the Cupola.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and that was chapter three! we’re more than halfway to the end, what are we thinking? </p><p>side not: this chapter’s ending has to be my favorite out of the five just because the view of earth from the Cupola is so special to me ... genuinely i saw one particular picture that made me tear up once. we are all just. living and breathing on this impossible floating ball suspended in space ... Yeah </p><p>(comment down below what you think about that scene between dream and techno being so charged! that conversation of theirs was so oddly vulnerable, even if neither of them actually know <i>why</i> it made them feel the way that they did. there’s just something about the person you’re crushing on not even being on the same planet as you that makes all your moments that much more profound and emotional, you feel?)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>heyo, final stretch until the last chapter, let's wrap this up! enjoy reading, lovelies, i appreciate every single one of you!! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“But <i>Sam</i>,” Dream whines, tugging at the edge of Sam’s button up. “<i>Please?</i> Just this once.”</p><p>Sam sighs. “That’s what you said last time. And last last time.” He just wanted to get a cup of coffee. Now Dream’s clinging onto him like a leech, preventing him from returning to his desk. “I really don’t want to be involved in whatever it is you two are up to this time.”</p><p>Dream looks at him, affronted, sitting in his squeaky chair, headset wire wrapped close and tight around his neck.</p><p>“This is the last time. Swear on it.”</p><p>Sam knows he’s lying. He sighs, again—for what feels like the hundredth time—and gestures for him to continue anyway.</p><p>“Okay. Say you’re a doctor, right? You’re a doctor and you have five patients—Techno is listening in, by the way—you have five patients who are like, dying. Full stop, they’re gonna die if they don’t get the organs that they need. The only problem is, there are no donors, or no compatible donors, at least. But then, let’s say that one dude walks into the hospital, asking for your assistance. He’s healthy, he’s fine, he’s just coming in for a check-up. Holy shit! You notice that he’s a perfect match for all your dying patients. All his organs are compatible.”</p><p>“So,” Dream starts, but gets cut off by Techno’s voice in his headset (Sam assumes).</p><p>“Houston. No I’m not telling it wrong, over.” Dream pauses to listen. “Houston, no, no I’m not, you’re an idiot, over.”</p><p>“So.” he looks back up at Sam. “What do you do? You could save five lives by killing this one dude. Do you do it?”</p><p>Sam doesn’t even hesitate, saying, “Of course not. Murdering someone is still very much bad. Like, <i>bad</i> bad.”</p><p>“See!” Dream erupts, presumably to Techno. “Sorry—Houston to ISS. See! Of course it’s fucked up to murder someone, doesn’t matter if the other guys are dying. Hippocratic Oath and shit.”</p><p>‘Thanks Sam,’ Dream mouths to him.</p><p>Sam just cuffs the back of his head and smiles, walking back to his desk.</p><p>Kids these days, he thinks, setting down his mug.</p><p>He’s clicking on a report he’s supposed to go over when the door beeps. Alex and Karl, two engineers that work in the room next to theirs, walk into the room with Bad.</p><p>“Hey guys!” Sam calls out to them, the entire room giving them a similar greeting.</p><p>It isn’t a surprise to see Alex and Karl walk into mission control. The both of them work closely with the ISS team to monitor the spacecraft’s upkeep. Anything that has to do with the Station’s structure, whether it be damage to the modules, an issue with the truss, even something minor, like a slight change in the ECLSS: they call in these guys.</p><p>“How’s it going, boys?” Sam asks, tilting his chair to look at them as they move to the back of the room, heading for the unoccupied desk to the left. </p><p>“Been alright, Sam, we’re just here for monthly maintenance,” Karl says as he plops a cream puff wrapped in tissue on Sam’s desk. Sam grins at him as he reaches for the pastry. Over to the left of Karl is Alex, ruffling Dream and Sapnap’s hair as he passes by. </p><p>“Anything wrong with the ship?” George asks, turning around in his chair to look at them.</p><p>“Nah.” A smile curls up Alex’s face. “Or at least, not that we know of. Dream’s boyfriend is supposed to report to us in half an hour about everything that’s been going on with the ship lately.”</p><p>Dream scowls at him. <i>You too, Alex?</i> “Not my boyfriend,” he grumbles.</p><p>“Sure,” the whole room shoots back at him, and, what. Since when did his idiot friends start synchronizing with each other like a fucking choir.</p><p>Dream only glowers and returns to his work.</p><p>Bad is fiddling with the controls of the displays up front, setting up the projections for their sort-of meeting. Live feed from the USOS plays out on a corner of the wall, the Quest module and Destiny lab in full color, high definition. In the bottom left-hand corner, the blinking red dot is slowly working its way around the globe. Blueprints and diagrams cover the rest of the unoccupied space.</p><p>Dream is bickering with Sam about the ideal structure and composition of a cream puff when Bad clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. When that doesn’t work, he cups a hand next to his mouth and yells, “Hey! Muffins!”</p><p>The room goes quiet (a rarity) and turns to him. </p><p>From the back, Alex mutters, “Still can’t believe you call us muffins.”</p><p>Everyone else nods in agreement.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Bad points to Dream. “Any moment now, Commander Techno is going to report to you about the ship. We’re going to talk to him about that first, and then Alex and Karl are going to discuss their monthly report up front. Same protocol as usual, except this time, Sapnap is <i>not</i> going to go shirtless, and George and Alex are <i>not</i> going to throw dollar bills at him. We are <i>not</i> repeating last month’s ordeal. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>Aw, man.</p><p>The room pouts at him. “Crystal.”</p><p>Well, that plan is scrapped.</p><p>“ISS to Houston, ISS to Houston. Ready for the report, Dream. Over.” Techno’s voice fills his ears.</p><p>Unbeknownst to him, Sapnap tells the room, “Techno’s talking to him right now.”</p><p>Karl raises an eyebrow. “How do you know?”</p><p>The corner of Sapnap’s mouth kicks up. “He started smiling just now.”</p><p>“Houston. Go for it, Commander, over,” Dream chirps, pulling up a pad of paper to jot down notes.</p><p>“ISS. Everything’s pretty normal, there was a bit of an accident in Destiny— Wilbur knocked over a sample while he was arguing—quite passionately, might I add—with Phil about Pluto’s planet status. Nothing major, cleaned it up in five minutes. Wilbur is still very much upset about Pluto, though. Over,” Techno says, laughing.</p><p>Dream’s smile grows. “Houston. Can’t blame him, I’m still upset too. Nothing else wrong? Over.”</p><p>“ISS. Nope. We did hear a weird knocking around Leonardo, but it went away like, seconds after. Assumed it was a bit of debris. Over.” </p><p>Dream notes the observation down, saying, “Houston. If that’s it, I’ll talk to the guys and come back to you, yeah? Over.”</p><p>Although Dream doesn’t know it, Techno smiles, small and fleeting, from his perch in space. “ISS. Yeah. Yeah, no rush. Over.”</p><p>“Houston. Okay. Over.”</p><p>“ISS. Okay. Over.”</p><p>From behind Dream, Alex groans silently, feeling his eyes roll to the back of his head. How can two people be this fucking gross?</p><p>Karl nudges him. ‘Come on, it’s kinda cute,’ he mouths.</p><p>And Alex resolutely does not admit that, yeah, <i>okay</i>, it’s kinda cute.</p><p>Just a tiny bit.</p><p>Dream takes his headset off and clears his throat. “Okay, so, nothing wrong with the ship. Minor spill in the Destiny lab, cleaned in no time— no harm. No other reports except a knocking sound near Leonardo that went away after a couple seconds. They assumed it was a bit of debris.”</p><p>“Hm,” Karl hums, looking at the blueprint on the wall in front of them. “Might be worth checking out, honestly. Lotta extruding bits protruding from Leonardo’s hull. Could’ve hit something.”</p><p>Alex, spinning around in his chair, chimes in, “Second the motion. Don’t wanna risk anything. A satellite could’ve been dented.”</p><p>They all look to Bad for his concluding decision.</p><p>He nods. “Yeah, we’ll do it. Should be a one hour spacewalk, tops. Alex, Karl, let’s go through your report so we can tell the team up there to prepare for tomorrow.”</p><p>Karl and Alex move to the front to present their report, mostly observations on how the ECLSS has been doing. It’s the usual monthly analysis, complete with eleven different PowerPoint transitions. After they wrap up, Karl asks Bad, “I assume we’re going to be here tomorrow too?”</p><p>Bad nods. “Yup. Need you guys to monitor the walk with us.”</p><p>Alex and Karl leave soon after, but not without Alex borrowing (stealing) George’s entire pen cup.</p><p>Dream opens his end of the line to inform Techno of their plan. “Houston. You up for a spacewalk, Commander? Over.”</p><p>Floating above and away from him, Techno feels something warm and addicting rush through his veins. “ISS. Always. Over.”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and that's it! we're on to the final chapter. this was pretty short since it's a bit of a filler, and was really only to set up for the next part, but hey— at least we met quackity and karl in this one :D thank you again for all the hits and kudos, it's honestly insane to me. see you tomorrow for the conclusion! (heads up: there's a bit of a tonal shift compared to the chapters you've seen so far)</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>last one!! let's do this!! (also we hit 1k kudos and are nearing 200 kudos genuinely What The Fuck)</p><p>btw, since this term comes up in the chapter: "a snoopy cap, or communication cap, is a part of a space suit worn by american astronauts on the head and incorporating an audio headset for communication." (wikipedia definition)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gang’s all staring at the live feed of the Quest Airlock, watching as Techno comes into view. His face is covered by a helmet that’s feeding him 100% pure oxygen. Dream wishes the glass wasn’t opaque.</p><p>Floating in mid-air, Techno starts donning the two hundred and eight pound spacesuit.<br/>
Dream watches, almost mesmerized, as Techno moves around in the airlock. Steady and sure, his hands tighten straps and click buckles into place. Dream doesn’t notice everyone else shooting him amused looks.</p><p>Covered head to toe in padded Kevlar, Techno waves at the camera in the corner of the crew lock after he’s finished gearing up.</p><p>Dream is charmed.</p><p>“ISS to Houston, ready to depressurize, over,” Techno says, utilizing the Snoopy cap in his suit.</p><p>“Houston. Go ahead and decrease the pressure whenever you’re ready, Commander. Over.” Dream watches as Techno takes a moment to breathe. His eyes lock onto Techno’s gloved hands, flexing as he steels himself.</p><p>Techno closes the hatch behind him and locks it shut, depressurizing the crew lock. The room is silent as everyone watches Techno reaccustom himself to the change in atmosphere. It was almost beautiful, Dream thinks, how Techno seems to move like this is muscle memory, and maybe it is. This isn’t the first time any of the crew is going to conduct a spacewalk. </p><p>Techno pulls himself through the outer airlock hatch and into the payload bay, positioning himself. Then, he pushes out of the bay, finally coming into contact with the great dark of space.</p><p>There’s no live feed of the astronaut once he’s out. They stare at the broadcast of the empty airlock.</p><p>“ISS to Houston, ISS to Houston. I’m all floaty and shit. Over.”</p><p>Dream breaks out into a smile. (And breathes out a sigh of relief, but he’s not going to admit to that.) “Houston. I’m sure you are, Commander. How’s the weather up there?”</p><p>“ISS. Cold as balls. Over.”</p><p>Dream laughs.</p><p>Minutes pass as everyone messes around to fill the time, only Dream still sitting in his chair.</p><p>“ISS. Finally reached the satellites near Leonardo, nothing looks out of place yet, over.” Techno’s voice comes through, muffled.</p><p>“Houston. That’s good. Report back if you find anything, over.”</p><p>Dream leans back in his chair, swiveling around, the chatter of the team distant and far-away. He thinks about how heavy a spacesuit is. He wonders if he’d be able to feel Techno’s hands through his thick gloves. He wonders if anyone’s kissed in space yet.</p><p>Okay, Dream. Woah there. Step back a bit.</p><p>He breaks out of his haze to realize that it’s been a few minutes since Techno’s reported back to him.</p><p>“Houston to ISS. Everything alright up there? Over.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>He waits a few beats and repeats himself. “Houston to ISS, Houston to ISS. Everything alright up there? Commander? Over.”</p><p>He signals at the room, saying, “Techno isn’t responding.”</p><p>Everyone moves back to their stations, Bad walking over to where Dream is sitting.</p><p>“Houston to ISS. Commander, are you there? Over.” Dream says, pushing down the wriggling mass of anxiety rising in his chest.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>The room jumps into action, everyone commanding their own area. Sam shoots out rapid-fire questions at the researchers working in the backrooms, George sends a signal to the crew in the USOS, Sapnap pulls up the ship’s communications database, and Karl and Alex pore over the spacecraft’s satellite diagnostics.</p><p>Bad is standing in the middle of it all, next to Dream, calling out questions at them about the comms system, the remaining crew, the structure of a Snoopy cap, and Dream—</p><p>Dream realizes he hasn’t been breathing. He gulps for air as oxygen returns to his lungs, Bad grasping his shoulder. He needs to breathe. He needs to calm down. He needs to focus.</p><p>“Houston to ISS. Commander, do you copy?”</p><p>Everything is silent apart from the team’s low murmuring.</p><p>“Houston to ISS. Comman— Techno. Techno, do you copy?”</p><p>Static fills his ears and pours down his throat, filling his lungs until he feels like he’s choking. Until he feels like he’s drowning.</p><p>“ISS, this is Houston. UHF comm check.”</p><p>The static bubbles up from his lungs and fills his chest cavity, trickling out in ropes and threads and strings, weaving around the juts of his ribs, the knobs of his spine. </p><p>“Houston. UHF comm check, UHF comm check.”</p><p>Static wraps around his heart and squeezes. Hard.</p><p>“Techno, this is Houston. UHF comm check, UHF comm check.” </p><p>The room is tense, the deafening silence only broken by quiet murmurs, information in the form of numbers and jargon spilling out from mouths, frantic eyes looking at screens, looking at the displays at the front of the room, looking at that <i>fucking</i> blinking red dot. Something feels dangerously close to snapping. That something feels like Dream.</p><p>“Techno,” Dream says, lips forming around the name like a prayer. He’s white-knuckling the edge of his desk, gripping so hard he feels the sharp edge dig into his skin. He doesn’t feel the sting. “UHF comm check.”</p><p>Silence. There is only the sound of Dream’s heart, crushing under its own weight. It’s like the air pressure in the room has notched up several numbers too high to be safe. Dream’s ears are going to pop.</p><p>Bad’s grip on his shoulder is so tight it’s almost painful. The constant <i>beep-beep-beep</i> of the machines echo around in his skull. Sapnap’s typing on a keyboard so furiously and so loudly that Dream wants to hit him. People are moving and talking and bustling all around him and <i>it’s all too much,</i> he feels like he’s going to vomit. </p><p>Dream’s about to call out to Techno again, until— </p><p>His headset crackles.</p><p>“ISS to Houston, ISS to Houston, we lost connection for a bit there. Turns out the satellite was hit by some debris. Fiddled around with it a bit, hammered out some of the dents, should be okay now, over.”</p><p>And Dream gasps for breath, replacing the static in his lungs with oxygen. Relief and giddiness and <i>thank God you’re alive</i> and one million other things hit Dream like a freight train, face-first, head-on, but all he does is call out, “He’s okay! He’s alive,” to the room as he pries his hands off his desk.</p><p>Everyone else takes a collective breath of relief as they slump against their stations. Bad buries his face in his hands next to him, breathing in and out. George leans so far back in his chair that he tips over.</p><p>Techno’s okay. Techno’s okay and Dream’s palms are bleeding. There’s an angry, red welt on each of his hands, indents turned into cuts from how hard Dream was pressing his palms onto the edge of the desk. He stares at his shaking hands. When did they start shaking?</p><p>“ISS to Houston, you there, Dream? Over.” Techno’s smooth voice floats in and out of his ringing ears.</p><p>He curls his hands into fists as he says, “Hou—Houston. Houston. Yeah. Yeah, Commander. I’m here. Over.”</p><p>He then says, “Houston to ISS. You scared the shit out of us, Commander. Over.”</p><p>“ISS. Sorry—” Dream can hear the grimace in his voice. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know it took that long. Send my apologies to your team, Dream. Over.”</p><p>Dream calls out, shakily, “Techno says sorry for the scare.”</p><p>No one responds. Everyone’s still recovering from the adrenaline crash.</p><p>He grabs a tissue from Sapnap’s desk, dabbing at his palms, and says, “Houston. Scariest five minutes of my fucking life. Never do that again, Commander. Over.”</p><p>“ISS. I’ll try my absolute best, Dream. Over.”</p><p>Dream lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.</p><p>“Houston. You heading back to the airlock? Over.”</p><p>“ISS. Yeah, any minute now. Over,” Techno hums.</p><p>Dream’s eyes lock onto the Quest airlock feed, watching as Techno’s helmet comes into view. Techno pulls himself in head-first, torso following, limbs curling in slightly to accommodate for the limited space of the payload bay. He pushes himself through, finally reaching the airlock. He closes the bay hatch behind him.</p><p>He’s back. Whole and alive and breathing. He’s safe. He’s safe and sound and there are tears welling up behind Dream’s eyes.</p><p>Techno gives a thumbs up to the camera.</p><p>Dream chokes out a laugh, wet and desperate-sounding, watching as the crew lock pressurizes.</p><p>Techno starts the long, drawn-out ritual of removing the spacesuit, fingers moving quick and easy over clasps and buttons. </p><p>As he’s peeling off his layers, Dream says, almost whisper-like, “Houston. You scared me real bad there, Commander. Over.”</p><p>Dream sees Techno’s now bare hands stutter over a chest strap. “ISS. Did I? I’m sorry, Dream. Over.”</p><p>Dream sniffs and rubs shaking fingertips over his eyes. “Houston. Just don’t do it again, will you? Over.”</p><p>Techno removes the last of the padded suit, only in his thin, white undersuit and his Snoopy cap now. Dream sees a head of brown hair. </p><p>Then, Techno looks up at the camera. “ISS,” he rasps out. “I don’t think I <i>can</i> do it again, if I’m being honest with you, Dream.”</p><p>He’s handsome. He’s really fucking hot. Shit. Dream thinks he’s going to tear up again. He’s seeing his face, in real time, full color and HD and everything. He sees ten different emotions play out on Techno’s face as Techno says:</p><p>“How am I supposed to take you out on a date if I pull that stunt again, huh? Over.”</p><p>And.</p><p>And there’s that.</p><p>Dream’s brain short-circuits for a second. (A couple of seconds.) Warmth flushes through his system, all red cheeks and hot skin and pink-tipped ears, like someone lit a match and held it to the base of his spine.</p><p>His voice catches in his throat. He starts to speak and closes his mouth. Feels his teeth click against each other with a resounding <i>clack.</i></p><p>He starts again but his voice fails him.</p><p>He manages to get out a response before Techno panics. “Houston,” he murmurs. “That’s— that’s right. So you better come back here alive—you need to come back to me alive. You only have a month before you’re brought back down here. Over.” </p><p>He shoves his face in his shaking hands and heaves out a shuddering exhale.</p><p>Behind him, the back-to-normal team watches with something bordering between amusement and fondness. “Nothing going on,” their ass.</p><p>He looks up just in time to see Techno smile right at the camera, and it’s like Dream is seeing the stars for the first time all over again. Techno is smiling and all of a sudden Dream is the one in space, not Techno. Dream doesn’t feel the cold of the room or the sting of his palms, doesn’t hear the amused voices chattering behind him. Instead, he tastes meteorite dust on his tongue, feels the burning hot sun on his fingertips. There are galaxies fighting to claw their way up his throat. Techno is smiling, and Techno is smiling at <i>him.</i></p><p>His heart kicks against his ribs and he remembers he has a job to do. Fuck.</p><p>“Houston to ISS. This is your CAPCOM telling you to go to bed. Eat something and turn in for the night.” He sees Techno’s mouth open in protest and cuts in, “Not taking no for an answer.”</p><p>Then,</p><p>“Goodnight, Techno.”</p><p>And there’s blood on his table and he’s not quite sure if he’s really caught his breath just yet and there’s gonna be life-threatening amounts of paperwork he’ll have to fill out after this whole ordeal and he thinks he’s still crying, actually, judging from the wetness collecting on his jaw, and—</p><p>Techno smiles something soft and fond. “Goodnight, Dream.” He taps his fist against his chest twice, right above where his heart is, taking one final look at the camera. He then maneuvers out of the airlock and floats out of sight like he didn’t just wrap his hand around Dream’s heart with that simple action. </p><p>Something in his chest clenches tight and he looks at the blinking red dot projected onto the wall.</p><p>One month. </p><p>Just hang on for one more month.</p><p>He looks at his angry, red palms. They’re still shaking.</p><p>Dream swallows down a mouthful of ash and stardust. He finds that he doesn’t quite mind the aftertaste.</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AND THAT'S A WRAP! action at a distance is complete! please rant to me about your thoughts below aha ha i love hearing what you guys have to say!</p><p>i'm also down to answer any questions if you have them! about certain terms, lingo, or just about the fic in general! (you get a brownie if you point out/ask about any of the symbolism or callbacks to the previous chapters plz i wanna rant)</p><p>thank you all so much for reading this!! this is my first fic and i never expected for so many people to like it, i'm still kind of in disbelief djhsdjh</p><p>again, thank you so so much! (see you maybe kinda soon ;D) &lt;33</p>
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